


It's getting hot in here

by icywind



Series: Winterhawk Week 2017 [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: I couldn't not make the joke with the title, M/M, Not really pwp but close?, Ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: Bucky & Clint in a hot and stuffy safe house.Day 4 Winterhawk Week (Oldies but Goodies) - Heat





	It's getting hot in here

 

 

“Hrrllaaaaghnnaaaa...”

Bucky glanced up from his word search.

“This is just the woooooooooorrrrssst.”

He raised an eyebrow even though his companion wouldn't see it with his eyes closed.

“It's fucking September for fucks sake. Why is it sooooo hoooooooot?” Clint was flopped out on the old couch in the small (so small, so stuffy) safe house (apartment) they were holed up in.

“Global Warming?” Bucky offered, the corner of his mouth ticking up when Clint flipped him off.

“Don't joke about shit like that. That's a real thing.”

“I know. Trust me.” He heard all about it from Steve. “Aren't you from the Midwest? Shouldn't the heatwaves be something you're used to?”

“In case you missed it – it's fucking September. September. As in Fall. Autumn. Leafy happy season with sweaters and coffee and cocoa and pumpkin spice _everything_.” He saw Clint throw his arms out wide. “What it is _not_ , is stupid-fucking-hot season.”

“My apologies.” The smile threatened to grow a little more.

“Yeah, you should be sorry.”

“That makes no sense.” Neither of them were at fault here. They'd been on a normal little recon mission that had finished up the day before. They were now just waiting for extraction. Which – if anyone was at fault it was Sam because that was going to take another day and they couldn't really leave this little apartment for fear of breaking cover and Sam's slow ass was delaying said extraction and-

“The heat is messing with my head?” Clint suggested and Bucky stood with a grunt to walk over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water, bringing it over to Clint who yelped then moaned when Bucky settled it against his neck.

“Don't drink that in one go – the cold will seize up your stomach.” Bucky said, trying to ignore the echo of that stupid moan that was inexplicably stuck in his head now. As an afterthought he grabbed a bottle from the case near the door and tossed it to Clint who caught it without looking. 

He realized his mistake a moment later when he was still admiring how Clint had caught the bottle without looking – because that was followed by admiring the line of Clint's throat because he'd sat up and tilted his head back to finish off half of that bottle before setting it aside to run the cold one against his neck again.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat carefully back down in his chair. It was annoying how attractive he found Clint. He lived and worked with the guy and it just hit him at the most inopportune times. Like, for instance, the middle of a mission. 

Bucky did a double-take, finally noticing that Clint had managed to strip down to his boxers while he hadn't been paying attention. “Really Barton?

“Dude – it's fucking hot as hell,” Clint replied, his abs flexing in a...very captivating way as he lifted himself up some to glare at Bucky. “You could probably stand to lose a few layers yourself you know. Help us both out a little there Grumpelstiltskin.” Clint flopped back onto the couch, muttering, “Just saying.”

Yeah. Because that would really improve the situation, Bucky thought as he turned his back on Clint. He could hide facial expression easily enough, but not so much for bodily reactions. And he was more than a little bit in danger of having his pants get tighter.

“Aww fuck – I said something stupid didn't I?” Bucky heard shifting on the couch. “It's cool you know. The scars I mean. You know I won't judge you or anything right?” And Bucky flinched as Clint's hand landed on his shoulder and he didn't look up, though he caught out of the edges of his eyes that Clint circled around to sit in another chair at the table.

“Dude – you don't have to be embarrassed. I mean, I get how it's probably rough because of how you got them and all but I've got some pretty gnarly ones myself and some of the stories are...” Bucky saw him wave a hand. “Stupid. Some are stupid. And some really fucking suck because yeah...So I get it. I totally won't look or anything, honest.”

Oh if it were that easy. Bucky wished it something as simple as being afraid of his scars being seen.

“Did they have the running of the bulls way back? Probably – anyway. This is not from the big one in Pamplona – smaller one in the Spanish equivalent of Bumfuck Nowhere but uh,” And Bucky couldn't help but look as Clint and all that exposed skin was suddenly right in front of him and pulling down the edge of his boxers to show off a scar that ran along his hip. 

Bucky knew Clint had kept talking – he could hear his voice, but it was almost a droning quality like the sound of cicadas in August – but if you asked he wouldn't have been able to repeat what was said. He was too busy tracking the line of the scar where it blemished the tan of Clint's skin. His eyes then tracked the curve of Clint's ass, skipped over to follow the v-line down to where it vanished into Clint's boxers, imagining how it would look with his metal hand pressing against the skin as he held Clint's hips down against the bed. 

“Bucky?” Clint voice finally broke through his thoughts and Bucky glanced up at him. “Are you okay-oh.” Bucky had no idea what was showing on his face and he swallowed heavily, surprised by how much warmer he felt at that moment. “Oh I get it now.”

“Get what? I don't-” 

“You should have said something earlier,” Clint said as he pressed a finger to Bucky's lip stalling any further questioning and leaving him open for the moment when Clint leaned in to replace the finger with his lips. 

While Bucky's mind wasn't on top of things at that moment his body seemed to know what to do, responding to the press of Clint's lips, deepening the kiss the second Clint parted his lips. Groaning when kiss got dirty.

Someone whined when they finally broke apart, and Bucky was startled when he realized it had come from his own lips. Clint winked at him, his smile downright filthy, and Bucky was helpless and could only watch as Clint slid to the floor, eased his palms up Bucky's thighs, and flicked open his pants.

Bucky forgot how to speak for a little while, could only feel and make noises that would probably embarrass him if he really focused on what was happening (one of the best blow jobs in his life). 

It was all over far too quickly of course, and before he knew it, he was coming down Clint's throat. And then Bucky wasted no time at all returning the favor, stretching Clint out over the tiled kitchen floor before pulling his boxers off and using hand and mouth to have him biting his fist to keep the volume down as he came.

“This was a good idea,” Clint said eventually, turning his head to the side to look at Bucky, all loose and easy. “Tiles nice and cool.”

“I really can't tell,” Bucky replied, because he had not, in fact, removed any of his clothing. Well – aside from how his pants had slipped halfway down his ass while he'd been blowing Clint anyway. And, he had to admit, the tile was cool against his cheeks.

“You should get naked and then we can see if that helps the fan in the bedroom at all.” 

Bucky shifted his head so he could better raise an eyebrow at Clint. Being naked would only help a little, the sheets on the bed were cheap, and if he was honest, he'd have a very hard time keeping his hands (and mouth) off of Clint now that he'd gotten a taste. Somehow he must have managed to convey that all in a glance because Clint smiled slow and sly.

“Okay – then having another orgasm might make it easier to pass out for a bit – wake up when it's cooler out?”

“You've had worse plans.” He replied, removing his shirt as he sat up and shucking his shoes then pants as he stood.

“All of my plans are the best plans,” Clint said, eyes on Bucky's ass, hands not too far behind as he followed him into the bedroom.

 

 


End file.
